Rosemary
by Damian Cross
Summary: Rosemary: a symbol of love and remembrance. What is it that Hermione wants Draco to remember? One Shot. DM/HG.


"_There's rosemary, that's for remembrance."- Shakespeare (Hamlet)_

* * *

_"If a young person tapped another with a rosemary sprig and if the sprig contained an open flower, it was said that the couple would fall in love." _

* * *

**Rosemary: A Tale of Remembrance and Love**

I first met him when we were seven years old. I remember he was wearing a velvet robe accessorised with a scowl, and I a grubby old t-shirt and short denim skirt. I remember both of us staring at one another, startled, like possums caught in the headlights. His eyes were stormy grey. Mine were brown and anxious.

He was the first to break the silence.

"Who are you?" He asked rudely, arms crossed. I didn't miss his quick curious look at my clothes-clothes so different to his.

"I'm on holiday," I answered. I stood up from where I had been admiring the small purple flowered bush. "My parents rented a holiday home up the road. Who are you?"

"This is _my _house," he replied shortly, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing in my garden?"

I glanced at the flowers I had been admiring. "Waiting," I said. I bent down and plucked a small part of the bush.

"Waiting for what?"

I didn't answer.

"You're… not like me, are you?" He asked suddenly, his annoyed expression slipped and was replaced by a look of nervousness.

"Of course I am," I remembered being insulted, "I'm a human being too."

"That's not what I… I mean, of course you're a human," he was looking very scared now. He kept stealing frightening glances at the huge mansion behind him.

"What's this?" I stepped closer and waved the flower in front of his face.

He took a step back hurriedly, swallowing.

"Rosemary," his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "You better go. My parents will be- I mean, it's getting late."

I looked up at the sun, it was still high in the sky. I pocketed the herb.

"You're right," I smiled. He didn't return it. "I better go. See you around!"

"Goodbye," he watched as I crawled back out of the hole in the hedge. I looked back and saw his skinny figure trudging back to the gigantic mansion.

His father- with the same platinum blonde hair- was frowning as he burst out the door. He grabbed his son roughly around the shoulders and seemed to be lecturing him about something.

The small boy nodded, and followed his father back into the mansion. But not without casting one final, lonely look back at me.

For some reason, after that encounter, I never found that mysterious garden ever again.

* * *

I was nine when I saw him again.

Snow was falling gently, and the whole street was decked in red and green. It was Christmas Day.

At the end of the road stood a magnificent Christmas tree, decorated with fairy lights, giant candy sticks, stockings, and small angels. My gaze immediately drifted to the pile of presents beneath it.

"Father, may I look over there?" It had been two years, but I recognised his voice.

I turned around, and sure enough, there was the blonde, pale boy. He was taller now, and had nearly lost the baby fat around his cheeks. He was still very skinny though.

"No, Draco," his father pulled him protectively closer to himself. "We'll buy you ten Christmas trees bigger and better than that. Things are always bigger and better." _In our world_, he seemed to say.

I watched as the two disappeared behind a crowd of gaggling women. It was like they were never there.

I shrugged and skipped over to the tree, wishing that one of those pretty boxes with shiny ribbons belonged to me. I gingerly stretched out my mitten-covered hand and brushed the top of a box that was covered in gold and maroon wrapping paper.

"That's ugly." He was beside me.

I snatched my fingers back and glared at him. "Gold and red are very pretty colours," I informed him, hands on hips. Secretly though, I was delighted that he remembered me.

He crouched down, eyes darting about. At last he nodded appreciatively and, unlike me, positively grabbed a small box buried underneath the other presents.

I wrinkled my nose. "_That's_ ugly," I said. "The colours are so cold, and so un-christmasy."

"Green is," he reminded me.

"Not silver," I shot back. But I gave him a smile to show that I was joking. This time he returned it.

"Draco?" His father was back, unseen from somewhere in the middle of the crowd.

"Draco's a weird name," I commented.

A pink tinge appeared on his face. "I bet_ your_ name is funny," he snapped.

"It isn't so!" I stood up angrily.

"Whatever," he smirked.

"Draco Malfoy!" His father shouted, much closer now. Before I could blink, he was suddenly gone, melting into the crowd as he searched for his father.

It didn't occur to me then that he was trying to lead him away from me.

* * *

"Can you grab the post, love?" My mother was busy scrubbing away the dirt that had piled over the year. We were back at the holiday home, having bought it when it went on sale six months ago.

"Sure, let me finish the chapter first," I was reading _Matilda_, by Roald Dahl. It was by far, one of my favourite children books. I had been mesmerised by the intelligence and magic that Matilda wielded from the very first page. I wished feverishly that I too, could move objects with just my eyes.

Sighing as the chapter came to an end, I stuck in my bookmark, closed the book and ran downstairs to get the mail. The post arrived later here than back in our normal house. It had been already eight o'clock when I first checked it, and it hadn't come.

It was now two in the afternoon. I opened the mail box and reached inside, looking at each envelope for any letters addressed to me.

Most envelopes were concerned about various bills. Some were from the bank about the mortgage, and others were from mum and dad's friends. Only one thick letter was for me.

Heart pounding, I looked curiously at the emerald green ink written in neat handwriting. I flipped the envelope over and saw a crest or emblem of some sort bearing a lion, eagle, badger and snake.

"Is that a letter for you?" Dad was back from grocery shopping.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, "I haven't read it yet though."

I handed the rest of the mail to him and anxiously tore open the envelope.

"I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry…." My heart fell and so did my smile.

"It sounds like a prank to me," Dad hugged me. "Don't worry about it, okay sweetie?"

I shook my head. "I'll try not to."

Somehow though, I knew it wasn't a prank.

* * *

He was sitting on the side of the road, grinning from ear to ear about something.

"Draco Malfoy," I said, slipping down next to him. He had something in his hand, which he tried to hide from me.

"It's okay, I have one too," I waved the exact same envelope in his astonished face.

"But aren't you a muggle?" He asked, relaxing.

"Apparently I have magical blood in me. I… don't know whether I should be pleased or sad."

"Why would you ever be sad?" He sounded amazed. "Hogwarts is simply stunning. I've been wanting to go there since, well, forever."

"Are you a wizard then?" I looked down at my knees.

"Yes, of course, both my parents are."

"Of course," I echoed him.

"What's wrong with you?" He was suddenly angry. "You should consider it an _honour_ to be accepted into Hogwarts, to be accepted into my world!"

"Our world you mean," I said bitterly. "It's just that now that the time has come, everything must begin."

"What?" He didn't seem to understand me. I didn't expect him to.

"I better go. It's getting late." Both of us looked at the sky, and a hint of a smile appeared on his face, as if remembering our first encounter.

"See you on September the first," he waved as I walked away.

"I'll see you soon," I replied.

* * *

The door creaked open, and a cold draft wafted into the room.

"Why?" He asked.

I looked up from the books I had been reading. "Why what?" I said coolly.

"Why would you… announce that I was a… wizard?" He closed the door behind him.

"Aren't you?"

"You know that it's supposed to be kept from your world," he was angry, hurt. I didn't blame him.

"Well, they've forgotten now, haven't they? The Ministry erased their memories. No harm done," I didn't even look glance at him as I said that.

I heard him hiss angrily. He took two steps forward and smacked the book I was reading out of my grasp. "_I _was harmed!" He yelled, not caring that he wasn't to be seen with me.

"You could do with some toughening up," I looked at his skinny wrist and body. "Even I could take you."

He backed away suddenly. Scared at what I've become. "I took three punches and several kicks for you, and this is the thanks I get?" He whispered.

"I didn't ask you to defend me."

"Well I was there! What did you expect me to do?"

"Nothing."

He stiffened. "I don't even know you now," he seemed a little sad.

I smiled, "no, you really never did, did you?"

"Draco?" The door was again pushed open. Draco's father stepped into the room. At the sight of me, he scowled, his arm shaking. I knew he was clutching his wand. I knew he was longing to hex me for what I did to his son. But he couldn't, and we both knew it.

"Draco, go back to your room."

"Yes, father." He closed the door gently behind him.

Lucius turned around, his face scrunched up as he tried to control his anger. "I'm going to lock you up here until you realise the harm that was done to my son. You're lucky that He… if this wasn't…." he swallowed, "don't you _dare_ talk to my son again."

He slammed the door to the dungeon shut, locking it behind him.

I opened up _Hogwarts: A History_, and began to read. September the first was coming soon. I had to be ready.

* * *

It was time to go to Hogwarts. Draco was quivering with excitement as I watched him drag his trunk down the stairs, not letting his father or mother levitate it to the car.

At the sight of me, walking up the stairs, he visibly paled.

"I hope that once we're in school, you'll pretend to not know me," I said, brushing past him.

"Oh don't worry," he drawled, his grey eyes flashing angrily. "I won't want to engage myself in a 'friendship' with a _mudblood_."

I closed my eyes. It was done. I had broken the innocent, untainted boy.

"Wouldn't it give you joy to know that I'll be sharing the same school as you?" I gave him a small smile that didn't reach my eyes. _The time has come, everything must begin._

He crossed his arms, letting his previous school trunk fall down the staircase. "I've been trying to persuade my mother to let me go to Durmstrang. The Dark Arts aren't, unlike Hogwarts, a joke. Pity she's so stubborn."

_You liar,_ I thought, _I saw your excitement_.

"I really hope you'll remember your rightful place," he went on, his eyes fixed on a point above my head, as if reciting from a book, "and not mingle with Purebloods like me. I shudder to think what will happen if people knew I had associated myself with a mudblood."

"Fine by me," I snapped, "I wouldn't want to be known that I had considered an arrogant bastard, a racist bigot and an insufferable jerk as company once upon a time."

"Once upon a time," he agreed, his eyes were hard now. Steely. He picked up his trunk and ordered Dobby the house elf to carry it down for him.

I turned on my heel and marched downstairs. He was waiting for me there.

* * *

I caught him, in the Room of Requirement. He was sallow, pale and ill.

"Go away, mudblood," he snarled at me. Sixteen years old, we both were, sixteen only. It felt like we were both very, very old. Him especially.

The last few years at Hogwarts had changed me. Here I had been safe. I had Dumbledore. I managed to walk away from Him.

But Draco had nobody.

My left shoulder ached as I saw the inside of his wrist. I knew what he was doing. I could still stop him, stop him from becoming like me.

"Draco," I whispered.

He shuddered. "_Don't. Call. Me. That!"_ His eyes were closed, as if he couldn't bear to see me. He was afraid that his childhood memories would overwhelm him once more.

"I'm sorry," I said. He gave a disbelieving snort and turned away.

"I know you hate me, and not because I'm a muggle-born either. I'm really, truly sorry about that time-"

"-What time?" he snapped, "I didn't know you before Hogwarts, remember? I hate you because you're a mudblood, a sidekick to that prat, I loathe you because, because…"

"-because I was the one who betrayed you," I said quietly, "I told those muggles that you were a wizard."

He stood very still, eyes still clamped shut. His hands clenched and unclenched as he forced himself not to remember.

I took a step forwards, hoping, wishing that he would remember the times before that. The childish conversations, the short but meaningful encounters. Everything.

"They were bullying me, weren't they, Draco? We were playing near the construction site. They came, told us to go away. I told them that this was _our _place, and that they had no right in telling us to leave. Then the biggest one pushed me, you stepped forward and took the blows meant for me. Three punches and kicks, remember? You had a bruised face and back after that. Then I-"

"-stop," he whispered, so quiet that I almost couldn't hear him. But I did, and I ignored it.

"-I pushed him away and told them that you were a wizard. They laughed, I pulled out your wand from your pocket and made you levitate that boulder, remember?"

He was cringing now. Face scrunched up as if he was about to cry.

"Then you lost control. You dropped it, the boulder, onto the bully-"

"-SHUT UP!" His eyes snapped open and he slammed me against the cabinet. "Stop saying… stop making me remember… just stop. Please." He let me go and covered his face, sliding down, hugging his knees.

He looked so vulnerable. So small. So scared.

"-His parents came along, saw the blood. Saw you-with the wand. You killed him. Because of me. I made you use magic."

"It wasn't your fault," he said. But he sounded unsure.

"It was. Your father locked me up. Afraid I'll do more harm. Told my parents, told Him, what I did. He was most pleased, pleased that I manipulated you into killing him. Pleased that I made you do all the dirty work."

The room was dark, unlit. He couldn't see the tears falling from my eyes as I remembered how the cheerful boy had transformed, overnight, into a hollow empty shell. He believed that he killed the boy, he believed, and still believed that I took control of his mind and made him kill the boy.

I betrayed him. Betrayed his secret, our secret. Betrayed his trust in opening up his mind with me.

"Draco," I said, tilting his chin up. "I know how it feels. I was forced to do His bidding too. But I managed to change, to escape. You can too. Don't do this, Draco. Don't kill him. Please."

"I have to." He rolled up his sleeve, and brandished the ugly mark. The Deatheaters mark. "I'm connected to him now, if I don't- He'll…" he swallowed, "he'll kill them. My parents. He'll kill…"

"Me?" I gave a hollow laugh. "He's been wanting to kill me ever since I turned my back on him. Fifth year, wasn't it? What a surprise had it been when I fought _against_ his followers."

"He was… most displeased."

"The understatement of the year," I said. A small smile appeared on his gaunt face.

"The rosemary," he looked up at me, "The tree, the holiday house. Was it…?"

"All Him," I answered.

"And all this…"

"Was to bring you closer to me. You were a valuable find, Draco. A boy whose magic manifested when you weren't even a day old. A prodigy who could perform controlled magic at the age of two, and non-verbal spells at six. They needed you."

"Did they ask you to keep it? The rosemary."

"No. But I still have it. I dried it."

"It helps you remember, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"The herb was destroyed after you betrayed me."

"I guess they thought it was dangerous for you to remember. Do you want to remember?"

"Not now. Not really."

"I wonder when you'll be ready. To remember. To bury the pain…"

"To start afresh?"

"Yes."

"Not yet. But soon."

We sat there in silence, contemplating how much we had messed up our lives for Him.

The clock struck two in the morning. I got up to my feet. "Think about it, Draco. Don't do what I did."

I left him there, sitting in the dark. Thinking.

* * *

My two bestfriends and I were dragged, unwillingly to Malfoy Manor. I tried not to search for the herb garden, for that rosemary bush. But I did. My eyes roamed from the mansion to the grounds, and despite the lights the wands were projecting, I could not find that garden.

We entered the mansion. And he was there. Draco Malfoy.

He saw my frightened look. The scars I had, the wounds inflicted on me, the exhaustion. I was on the brink of fainting. He shuddered.

"I can't be sure," he said slowly, to Bellatrix. But he was sure. He knew it was me, he knew who my two bestfriends were.

Harry and Ron were made to go to the dungeon. The same one I was locked in all those years ago.

He was standing there, head turned, eyes shut, as I was tortured.

Every time I screamed, he winced. But he couldn't seem to do anything.

"_Crucio!"_

I screamed and screamed and screamed. The pain was excruciating. I was losing consciousness.

The last thing I remembered during the torture was him, Draco Malfoy, stepping over my body and blocking me from his aunt. I couldn't see much of him, just his hand against the black robes. "She's fainted now," he said, refusing to quiver under her insane gaze. "He'll be here soon. To punish her."

"She is a traitor! A mudblood! She should be killed!" Bellatrix screeched.

"No," it was Lucius who calmly stepped forward. "She is to be made an example of, remember? The Dark Lord himself was to kill her personally, to show them what would happen to mudbloods and traitors."

I felt Draco shiver at his father's words.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Ron snarls as Draco nears us. "What do you want, Malfoy? Want me to save your sorry arse again?"

"No," Draco looks past him and straight at me. "I want to talk to Hermione."

It was the first time he'd called me that. I try not to smile.

"What's going on?" Harry glances between us. Curious, puzzled.

"Don't be scared, Harry. Don't think bad of me, okay?"

"Of course I won't, Hermione, but why are you and Malfoy…? Why-?"

I used my hands to tear my robe so that my left shoulder was bare.

Ron jumps back, startled. "You are…What the hell is that?"

Draco looks sadly at the Dark Mark carved onto my flesh. "He didn't consider you a follower, did he, Hermione? But rather a slave. He marked you as His."

I nod. "I was four."

Harry looks sick. "You were a slave of Voldemort? All this time?"

"I was used by… I was told to become close to you, Harry, so that I could bring you closer to Him."

Ron refuses to believe me. "That's bullshit!" He yells, "Harry and I both know that you've been the greatest friend of ours _and_ greatest enemy of Voldemort!"

I sit down, and so does Draco. After a moment's hesitation, Harry also does too.

"But you changed," Harry seems to understand me, "fifth year, wasn't it? At the Ministry."

I give him a small, sad smile. "That was the year I finally snapped and walked away from Him."

Draco and Ron doesn't say anything. All of them want to know my story.

"I was kidnapped when I was four, back when Voldemort was… 'vanquished' by Harry. I was kidnapped and saved by Death eaters. They were the few of the inner circle that still believed He was alive. They thought it was a good idea to make a muggle their slave. So they carved the dark mark onto my shoulder. Not on the wrist, because that would make me one of them-"

Draco rubs his left wrist almost absentmindedly. He understands.

"They started training me in the arts of manipulation. Word had come to them that Lucius Malfoy's son was a prodigy, his ability to use his magic surpassed even ten year olds. But there were also rumours that this Draco Malfoy was not…informed, about the 'truth' of non-magical people. So they decided, that they'd return me to my family and kept close tabs on me. I was to wait my chance, befriend this prodigy and, when the time was right, betray him most hideously."

Draco lifts his eyes to look at me directly. It sends shivers down my spine. So warm were his eyes.

"Well, I succeeded. I made Draco distrust and hate muggleborns and muggles. When I received my Hogwarts letter They were most delighted. What luck, a student-spy! I was sent to school, once again to befriend an innocent boy- Harry Potter. I was to help him get past all those obstacles and ensure that Harry faced Voldemort, so that He could kill him properly.

In second year, when Harry wasn't making enough progress on the Chamber of Secrets, He sent the Basilisk to petrify me, knowing that it will send Harry off the edge. He was right, Harry and Ron, with hints from me, managed to locate and enter the Chamber. Again, He tried to kill you.

Fourth year was when I was ordered, again, to help you through the tasks. To make sure, along with Barty Crouch Junior, that you reached the third task. This was also to kill you.

But in fifth year… all those near death encounters, Harry, made me realise that I had truly became your friend. I just couldn't…. I couldn't follow his orders anymore. So instead of fighting with Him, I fought against…"

I fell silent. Draco moves closer to put an arm around me, hugging me closer to him. Sharing his warmth. He gently combs his slender fingers through my hair. "It's okay, Hermione, he's gone now," he whispers.

Ron stands up, fists balled. "Are you truly my friend, Hermione?" His voice is unusually cold.

I look up from Draco's chest. "Of course I am, Ron," I say gently, "You always were."

He stares at me and shakes his head, "I need a minute," he mutters, before striding away.

"I'll talk to him," Harry follows Ron, "Don't worry Hermione, he'll come around."

"You don't seem to be surprised."

"I'm not. I saw the Dark Mark on you while you were dressing, once, in the tent."

Draco stiffens. "Dressing?"

Harry laughs, "She wasn't naked, don't worry- I didn't see anything. Her robe wasn't adjusted yet, and her shoulder was showing."

Harry turns away, then stops. "Maybe once Ron calms down, you can tell us about how Malfoy fits into all this, Hermione. I really, truly, thought he hated you."

Draco grins, "oh I did. Hate her. We made up while she was being tortured. Funny story isn't it?"

"Haha," Harry says, not at all amused. He disappears into the darkness, calling out Ron's name.

Draco reaches into robe and pulls out something wrapped in his handkerchief. He opens it up and a few dried Rosemary tumbles out.

"Remembrance," he smiles, "thank Merlin I had these in my hand that time, right?"

"No," I answer. He seems taken aback. "Even without seeing the Rosemary, I still would've knew you and your parents had switched sides."

"After you left, that night in the Room, I knew that the next time He wanted me to do something to you, I had to remember."

"And you did, didn't you?"

"Yes. All the good times we shared, the laughter, the jokes… those certainly were not fake. I remembered the look on your face when I killed the boy. I remembered how scared you were in the dungeon, I remembered how you seemed to be apologising beforehand, before everything happened."

He pulls me closer to him, letting my head fall back onto his chest. He strokes my back comfortably. Despite it all, I find myself blushing. My heart thumping.

"No more pretending," I breathe into his robes.

I felt him shaking his head. "No more." He places his hands on the sides of my face and tilts it so my face, glistening with tears, is facing him. Gently he leans forward and stops each tear with a kiss.

"This time," he smiles, "no more betraying."

"Not if I can help it." I sit on his lap so I can be closer to him. He kisses me, gently at first, tentatively, as if afraid to hurt me. But then I open my mouth and responded to his touch. The kiss deepens into something much more than just desire and passion. All those years wasted, and finally we were able to claim our prize.

We broke apart to breathe, both of us are panting. His forehead is resting on mine. The sprig of Rosemary suddenly appears in his hands.

"Will you accept this gift?" He asks, holding out his hands.

I reach out and take the sprig. "It contains an open flower."

"Well, I guess that says a lot doesn't it?" He bends down and kisses me once more.

I just wish that this would last forever.

* * *

**Just a thought: did people notice that I changed tenses towards the end? The intention was that the beginning and middle was all in the past (part of Remembrance) and that in the end, it was time for love (another meaning that Rosemary symbols).**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this story. If you did (or didn't, for that matter) please review. I love reviews. They make me smile and feel good about myself. They also encourage and motivate me to write.**

**Was that too subtle? lol.**


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